Passing through the palace gates, Lucia took a asured look around. This was a side hall, clearly designed for the Golden Royal Family's private gatherings. The decor lacked the oppressive majesty of the outer courts, replaced instead by a sense of warm, dostic comfort.
In the center of the hall stood a massive sandalwood table. Marika and Radagon sat side-by-side at the head, with ten identical chairs arranged along the flanks. There was no distinction of rank here; it looked like any other family's dining room—if that family happened to rule the world.
The table was already laden with rare fruits and delicacies from every corner of the Lands Between. Exquisite magic lamps cast a golden glow that danced off the glazed plates, while silent, well-dressed maids stood ready in the shadows.
"Sit, sit—" The Queen said, her step light. "I knew you'd be hungry, Lucia. I had the master chef from Stormveil start on dinner hours ago. I think his style will suit your palate."
Radagon followed in her wake, his movents precise. He pulled out Marika's chair with a quiet, practiced dignity before taking his own seat beside her.
Lansseax gestured for Lucia to take the first seat on the left, but he stepped ahead of her, pulling the chair out himself. "Sister, please. You sit here."
Seeing his calm, non-negotiable insistence, Lansseax sat. Lucia took the second chair, settling in right next to her.
As the appetizers began to flow, Marika frowned at a nearby official. "Paige? Where are Miquella and Malenia? And that child, Godrick?"
Before the official could answer, a soft, slightly hurried voice echoed from the side door. "Sorry, Mother. We're late."
Lucia turned to see a thin, blonde boy pushing a wheelchair. He was small—so small the high back of the chair almost entirely obscured his face. Sitting in the wheelchair was a girl even more delicate than her brother. She had hair as red as a dying rose and skin as pale as fresh snow. Her right arm and both lower legs were gone, replaced by gleaming golden prosthetics.
Despite these horrific physical tolls, the girl's eyes were bright and clear. She scanned the room, her gaze locking onto Lucia almost instantly.
"It's a dragon!" she whispered, her voice a tiny puff of air.
"Malenia!" Miquella's low, doting voice chided from behind her. "He is an important guest. You mustn't shout like that."
Malenia muttered a quick "oh" and covered her mouth, but her eyes never left Lucia's face.
Radagon watched his children with a helpless, paternal affection. "Miquella, your own health is fragile; why must you insist on doing the maids' work? And you, Malenia—if you didn't demand your brother's constant company, he wouldn't be late to such an occasion."
Malenia lowered her head, cheekily sticking out her tongue when her father looked away.
"It's my fault, Father," Miquella explained as he pushed the chair to the table. "Malenia was struggling this afternoon. I was helping her suppress the Rot, and we lost track of ti."
As Miquella stepped out from behind the chair, Lucia finally saw him. Thin and sickly though he was, he possessed a divine beauty that rivaled his father's. His golden hair was a brilliant, shimring halo. There was a profound sense of fragntation about him—the mind of a mature sage trapped in the body of a child.
The Empyrean Twins. One cursed to rot, the other cursed to never grow up. Lucia felt a pang of confusion: if this was the Erdtree's "blessing," then what did a curse look like?
"You must be Prince Lucia," Miquella said, offering a gentle smile. "Please forgive our tardiness. I am Miquella, and this is my sister, Malenia. We have looked forward to your visit for many days."
"It's no trouble at all. And please, just call Lucia," he replied, rising to greet them. "I'm happy to be here. The Elders in Farum Azula have an average age of five hundred; we don't exactly share a 'common language.' Technically, I'm only three months old."
"Liar!" Malenia piped up. "How could you be that big in three months? Brother is ten and he's tiny compared to you!"
The table erupted in soft laughter. Marika smiled, stroking her daughter's hair. "Lucia is an Ancient Dragon, dear. They grow differently. He was developing inside his egg for a long, long ti."
"Really?" The girl's eyes went wide.
"Every word," Lucia blinked at her. "I was in that egg for over a thousand years. Technically, you and Miquella should both be calling 'Big Brother'."
"No—way!" Malenia pouted, making a face at him.
Miquella moved to lift Malenia into her high-backed chair, but she pointed to the empty seat next to Lucia. "I want to sit there!"
Marika and Radagon exchanged a look, then turned to Lucia.
"With pleasure," Lucia smiled.
The Malenia before him didn't have her legendary prosthetic blade, nor would she suddenly erupt into a Waterfowl Dance. She was just a curious little girl. He helped Miquella wheel her over and pulled out the chair for her. Miquella settled her in, patting her head. "Sit properly, now. No trouble."
"I know!" she chirped, but her eyes were already drifting back to Lucia, searching for hidden dragon scales.
"Are you Luciassax?"
The voice from the doorway was sharp and arrogant. A youth with short hair and a stalwart build walked in, his head held high. He had the physical strength of the Golden Lineage, but there was a distinct gloominess between his brows—a cramped, narrow temperant that spoiled his handso features.
He bowed to the King and Queen, nodded to Lansseax, and sat down at the right side of the table with practiced pride.
"Welco to Leyndell," he said, his voice flat and mocking. "It seems the Grand Lift built by my dynasty was so unsatisfactory that the Prince felt compelled to fly over the plateau himself. Truly, our hospitality must be lacking!"
The air at the table grew cold instantly.
Lucia squinted at the youth. This was Godrick. In his mory, this man would beco a gray-haired "sha of the demigods" covered in grafted limbs. Looking at him now—decent, handso, yet bitter—Lucia couldn't fathom how he'd eventually choose to beco a tentacle monster.
Sarcasm? With ? Lucia thought. Kid, I was winning internet argunts before you were a glint in Godwyn's eye.
Lucia shrugged, his expression radiating a kind, elder warmth. "You must be Godwyn's eldest, Godrick, right? It's not that the hospitality is poor; it's just that Dectus was so close I couldn't wait. As your Uncle, I feel terrible—I ca in such a hurry I didn't bring any toys for you. I'll make it up to you next ti, I promise!"
Beside him, Malenia lost her composure and burst into a fit of giggles.
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